


call me, maybe

by insomniacjams



Series: strangers on a train [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2168604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insomniacjams/pseuds/insomniacjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam calls Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call me, maybe

**Author's Note:**

> uh, this isn't what I thought it would be but here it is.  
> there's one more part of this series to come, at least, I think.
> 
> unbeta'd and written just for fun so it's probably kind of awful.

"Just call him, Li. If the guy's fit and left you his number-"

"Was probably just a one-off," Liam says, rolling his eyes at Niall's arse from where it's sticking out from the fridge. 

"If he wanted a one-off, he wouldn't have left his number," Niall says pointedly, poking his head out from behind the fridge door to glare at where Liam's camped out on his couch – has been camped out on his couch since getting back into England, like he's afraid of seeing his parents.

"But what if-"

"You won't know until you try," Niall cuts him off, pulling a head of lettuce from the fridge. "Now shut up unless you're going to talk about my sandwich making skills." Liam shuts up.

When he'd saved the number in his phone two weeks ago upon his return to London, Liam had no intention of ever using yet. It had taken some very purposeful coaxing from Niall for Liam to even admit he'd done something terrible, and even further bribery of fish and chips for Liam to admit what it was, exactly, that he'd done.

"Have you called him yet?" Niall yells from the kitchen, and Liam groans.

"Does it sound like I've fucking called him?"

"If you aren't going to call him, go home," Niall says, and it truly speaks bounds to how much Liam doesn't want to call Zayn, because he finds himself and his backpack on a train bound for Wolverhampton the next morning.

"You look tired," his mum fusses over his appearance when she fetches him from the station, scoffing at his stubbly chin and the weathered backpack.

"You look the same," Liam says, because he's not sure what else he's supposed to say. She is the same; Wolverhampton is the same. Nothing ever changes.

He meets up with Andy that night at the pub, and over a couple beers, he says, "I met a bloke. He was real fit. We shagged on the train to Frankfurt."

"Was he good?" Andy asks, and Liam nods.

"I've got his number."

"You haven't called him," Andy says, and it isn't a question, so Liam doesn't respond – just sips at his beer and tries not to meet Andy's eyes. "Don't complain about the way things have always been if you aren't going to change it," Andy says, because he knows Liam's sick of Wolverhampton just as much as Andy's sick of Liam's complaining.

He waits until his mum's gone to work the next day before he even lets himself consider it, flipping his phone between his hands over and over again, mulling over the consequences, weighing the pros and cons – thinking how likely it would be that he'd just embarrass himself, or that it's a disconnected number, a fake number, or even a real number but nobody answers.

He doesn't mean to hit talk; he fumbles his phone, nearly dropping it as he tosses it from his non-dominant hand into his right, and his button mashing must've unlocked it because his thumb smashes against the "talk" button and it's ringing loudly in his ear.

His breath hitches.

"Hello?"

"Is this Zayn? This is, uh, this is Liam, from, uh, from the train."

"Liam," Zayn's voice is warm, flooding through Liam like a warm trickle of water from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He sighs involuntarily, settling on the couch. "I was starting to think I wouldn't hear from you again."

"I wasn't sure if I should call," Liam admits.

"But you did," Zayn says, stating the obvious.

"I couldn't stop thinking about it – about you," Liam whispers, his free hand grappling at the cushion by his side. "Are you back in London now?" He abruptly changes the topic.

"I am," Zayn confirms. "I arrived two days ago, actually. I spent far longer than I planned dealing with my client in Wiesbaden, so I'm a bit glad you didn't call until now, because I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it."

"I'm not in London, Zayn," Liam explains slowly, and he can imagine Zayn's crestfallen expression as he lets out a soft noise of realization when the words sink in.

"Oh, so, uh, did you stay in Germany or something?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Liam says quickly. "I'm just, well, I'm living with my mum right now since I haven't got a clue what to do with my life-" and how pathetic does that sound, Liam wonders – "so I'm in Wolverhampton for the time being."

"Well," Zayn hesitates. "Wolverhampton's not too far from London if you want to, I don't know-" There's a sharp intake of breath from Zayn's end of the line when he blurts, "have a cup of coffee or sommat?"

"Coffee sounds lovely," Liam sputters suddenly, his lips forming the words before his brain can grasp what he's saying. 

"Your eyes reminded me of coffee," Zayn says softly – "the strong stuff that I have in my office. It wakes me up, because, well, not much else does sometimes."

Liam blinks. He thinks his eyes are rather ordinary; brown, and dull – nothing compared to Zayn's that shimmer with gold flecks under the bright lights and shine with emotion in the dark. He tells him as much, and Zayn chuckles.

"Thanks babe," he murmurs, his voice slow and calm, washing over Liam and blanketing him like a warm hug on a cold day. "Wish you could see 'em now."

"Well, what do they look like now?" Liam asks, and it's dumb, his body's dumb, his dick twitching from inside the confines of his pants from Zayn talking up his own dumb, too-warm, too-seductive, too-bright eyes.

"If you were here," Zayn says, voice thick and sultry like he knows – like he knows Liam's got the hell of his hand pressed into his crotch, "they'd be looking at you like you were the only thing in the world." 

"Betcha if I were there," Liam hums, "I'd look right back like that."

"I'd probably have to kiss you if you did that," Zayn says, and Liam thinks he can hear Zayn's breath speeding up on the other end of the line. "I'd probably have to kiss you until you close them – can't handle you looking at me like that."

"What if I just looked at you like that all the time?" Liam asks as his breath hitches.

"Might just have to kiss you all the time then," Zayn says. "Wish you were here right now – I'd kiss you; bet you'd taste like coffee."

"Mmm, a bit," Liam hums, smiling to himself as he slowly reaches down to thumb open the buttons on his fly; he knows where this is going, and he likes where this is going. "Bet you'd taste like cigarettes and hairspray."

"Oi, I don't eat my hair products," Zayn says, mock offended. "Bet you'd enjoy it anyway."

"Maybe too much," Liam notes. "Wish I was there too to kiss you back. I'd definitely be trying to get my hands in that hair of yours."

"Don't touch the hair," Zayn groans, and Liam grins. 

"Why not? You don't like it? Someone tugging on your hair while you suck 'em off- suck me off, with your lips stretched so wide around my cock."

"You'd taste better than hairspray," Zayn insists, his breathing clearly speeding up now. "I'd suck you dry too – wrap my tongue around you, with on hand on your balls, the other on your hips to keep you back on the- where are you now?"

"Couch," Liam volunteers.

"To keep you on the couch," Zayn grins. "I wouldn't mind being on my knees for you, Leeyum. Would want you to come in my mouth, you know?" Liam groans at the mental image of his own dick sliding in and out of Zayn's plump lips.

He can't even start to think about how those lips would look, swollen and red, covered in cum. Liam palms himself through his pants, wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock and squeezing. "Are you touching yourself, babe?" He can't help but ask, and he can practically see Zayn's smirk.

"Yes, fuck, yes, Zayn," Liam gasps. "Are you?"

"Not yet," Zayn mumbles, "Would probably come in my pants thinking of you coming down my throat-" Liam lets out a guttural groan.

"You'd probably look so hot with my cum all over your face though; your lips, your cheekbones, your eyelashes – your, fuck, your everything."

"I'd let you fuck my mouth," Zayn says immediately. "I'd let go of your hips and let you fuck my throat." Liam groaned, and Zayn let out a weak whimper. "Take off your pants, Liam." He gladly obliged.

"You too; need you naked too," Liam says, and there's a bit of shuffling around from the other end before Zayn talks again.

"Want to open yourself up for me, Leeyum? Stretch yourself nice and open, so you're ready for me when I get there."

"Yeah, please, let me – yeah," Liam sighs.

"Lick your fingers," Zayn commands, his voice going deep and dark. Liam does as he's told, slurping particularly loud before dipping his hands down between his cheeks. 

"One finger," he tells Zayn once he's knuckle deep, adjusting to the penetration before slowly thrusting in and out. 

"Tell me, how's it feel?" Zayn asks, and Liam hums.

"Good, really good – tight, and hot. Bet you'd think it was perfect; wet and slick and opening up for your cock."

"Next finger," Zayn demands, and Liam complies, working his second finger past the ring of muscle and feeling the familiar burning stretch. 

"So tight, Zayn – want your fingers, want your fingers inside me. Want to sit on your lap again," Liam adds on a whim, and when he catches Zayn's breath hitching, he grins. "You like that? You like me on top?"

"Always," Zayn answers quickly without shame, and Liam hears the click of a lid, probably on the lube; he imagines Zayn slicking himself up and groans into the mouthpiece of his phone, nudging it a bit so it's resting on the back of the couch and he doesn't have to hold it. 

He bets Zayn has one of those fancy hands free headsets and is sprawled on his bed with it, the cheeky fucker, naked from the waist down and slowly jerking a loose fist around his cock. "Tighter," Liam tells him, and Zayn groans, swallowing loudly before Liam hears the wet sounds of Zayn jerking off speed up. "I'm three fingers in; bet I can take it now," Liam adds.

"Fuck, Li," Zayn groans, and then there's more shuffling. "Spread your fucking legs."

"Yeah, Zayn, please," Liam whimpers, readjusting himself so that his legs are splayed, bent at the knee, feet on the couch as he drives his fingers in and out, pressing lightly against his prostate with every other thrust, trying not to drive himself too close to the edge.

"Pinch your left nipple," Zayn says, and Liam does it without question.

"Fuck, bet you'd twist it a bit too," Liam chokes out.

"I would," Zayn says. "You know I would. Fuck, I'm going- Liam, I can't," Zayn gasps.

"Me too," Liam groans, three fingers deep in his own ass, other hand tweaking at his nipples. "So close, Zayn, I want to-"

"Going to come inside you," Zayn growls suddenly. "Going to fill you up and make you _mine_ ," he rumbles, and Liam's done, coming without touching his dick at all, his cock bobbing uselessly against his stomach, spurting white all over the hairs on his chest.

"Fuck," he chokes out.

"Did you just-" 

"Yeah, I did," Liam says, and Zayn groans from his end of the line, his voice a low rumble that shocks Liam straight through his aftershocks. "You too?"

"Yeah," Zayn says. They're quiet after that, listening to each other breath for nearly three full minutes.

"So, um," Liam says awkwardly, breaking the silence and wiping his hand on his jeans in disgust, "You have my number now so if you want, you can, uh, call me, maybe."

"I'll let you know when I get back to London," Zayn says softly. "I promised you coffee, and, uh, I wasn't kidding about needing a secretary."

"I'll hold you to it," Liam says, and he feels surprisingly calmer when he hangs up the phone.

"I think I'll move to London soon and find work there," he tells his mum later that night over dinner. She only nods, and pats him on the hand.

"You'll do great there," she says.

Liam nods. "I plan to."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading.


End file.
